Texas. It’s like a whole other country, as the saying goes. Or, as John Wayne said, “Texas is the damnedest lady I ever saw.” Both of those observations are bullseye accurate. Willie Nelson once told me during an interview, “I could be dead ass asleep on the bus and when we cross that Texas line, I can feel it.” That Willie sure has a way with words, doesn’t he? Being a Texan in a land far away, like I am, in Maine, gives me, perhaps a different perspective than many still-in-Texas Texans. Don’t get me wrong, I love Maine. It’s a great place to live and raise a family. The scenery here is very much like East Texas, pine trees everywhere, lots of lakes, ponds, creeks and rivers and good, down-to-Earth, proud people that talk funny. I miss Texas. A lot. It’s home. It’s like my Mother, a part of me that is eternal and undeniable. A piece of my soul, a blessing from God. Something that nobody can ever take away from me. Texas is me. And you. And your kids and neighbors and fellow parishiners at church. Texas is Us. Even the Yankees that call Texas  ‘home”, they are Texas and Texans, and  like James Bowie, Davy Crockett, Sam Houston, and Stephen F. Austin, once foreigners, now us, Texans. You know, American by birth, Texan by the Grace of God. The following link is to a piece written by legendary Texan and football coach, Bum Phillips. Bum, like Willie, has a way with words. Take a few minutes to read it, alone if you can, think about it, then pass it on to your kids or grandkids, your friends (especially if they live in another part of the country), whomever. As Texans, when we talk about Texas, we don’t brag, we do so with a deep-rooted pride and reverence. Because we are forged of a hotter fire.

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